


Meat is Meat

by CydSA



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-16
Updated: 2010-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CydSA/pseuds/CydSA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>zombie apocalypse</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meat is Meat

"Crap!" Dean yelled and shoved at Sam. The zombie ambled past them and walked into the wall where Sam had just been standing. "Run!" he shouted and Sam ran, for once not arguing.

Dean raced after him and slammed into his back. "Why'd you stop?" he asked and then looked over Sam's shoulder. "Crap."

There must have been about a hundred of them, all lumbering meat and groaning flesh.

"You take the fifty on the left and I'll take the fifty on the right," Sam quipped and Dean cocked his gun.

"Well, Sammy boy," he drawled, "I'll take out my fifty and then come on over and help you with yours then, a'right?"

Sam flipped him off and they started shooting.

The little girl was the one that took Dean by surprise. Maybe it's because she was young and still fairly fresh but she ducked under his defences and latched onto his ass before he even knew that she was there. He felt the burn before he spun around, clocking her with the butt of his shotgun and sent her head spinning off in one direction and her body flopping uselessly at his feet.

"She get you?" Sam yelled and Dean shook his head wordlessly. Now was not the time to let Sam get distracted by worrying about him. They would deal with this later.

Point and shoot. Point and shoot. Point and shoot. The reflex was automatic and Dean had to force himself to remember that these weren't humans anymore. They were meat suits with liquefyng organs and nothing but the need to feed to survive.

The sound they made gave Dean the heebie jeebies. The grunt-groan-moan of the prehistoric brain made his skin crawl.

"I'm nearly done with mine," Sam called. "Need any help there, old man?" the manic grin as he pumped the shotgun made Dean shake his head. His brother was an ass. Good thing he was an ass who had an accurate eye.

"Nah," Dean shouted back, sending an older guy staggering back in a mess of blood and guts and a hole in his belly that Dean could see through. "All under control here!"

Sam laughed wildly and they concentrated on the purge for a while. Finally, despite the odds, they won. The fact that the still moving living dead turned on one another as soon as they were wounded or disabled helped a whole hell of a lot.

They edged back, away from the carnage and apart from one female corpse looking up at them briefly, strings of tendons hanging from her mouth; they were able to make their escape.

They raced for the Impala and the doors weren't even closed before Dean was flooring her and they were getting the hell out of Dodge. Or Diggory in this instance.

They drove for about an hour, Sam calling Bobby to tell him about the outbreak and to arrange a proper fire and brimstone purge and Dean found a motel that looked about one star away from a dump.

They stumbled into the hotel room and Sam flopped down onto the nearest bed. "Man, it's been a long time since we've had a chance to just go balls to the wall." He grinned up at the ceiling. "Felt good."

"Yeah," Dean agreed and went into the small bathroom. He unbuckled his belt and tugged his jeans down. "Shit," he muttered.

"What?" Sam asked, suddenly at the bathroom door. He looked down at the bite mark. "Aw, no, Dean…" he groaned. He came nearer and reached out.

"Dude! You'd better not be thinking about touching my ass!" Dean warned him and Sam snatched his hand back.

"No! Of course I wasn't, I was just…" he trailed off helplessly. "Dean, dude, a zombie bit you in the ass!"

Dean glared at him. "Thank you, Dr. Obvious!" he exclaimed. "I'm so glad I've got you here to point things like this out to me."

Sam crossed his arms. "So are you going postal on me anytime soon?" he asked grimly.

"I have no friggin' idea," Dean growled.

Sam leaned down and peered at the bite mark. "D'you think we should put like anti-septic cream on it or something?"

Dean scowled at him. "Yeah, that's a great idea, Sammy, 'cos cream is going to stop the zombie bacteria eating me from the inside out."

Sam looked at him defensively. "Hey! At least I'm trying to think of a solution here!" he shouted.

"Cas!" Dean looked around the room. "Where are you, you un-feathered, angel of the freakin' Lord?"

"You bellowed?" Castiel was suddenly in the bathroom with them and it became the scene of a bad porno.

"Out! Out!" Dean yelled and shoved at Sam and Cas until they all stumbled through into the bedroom.

"Was there any reason for your summons, Dean?" Castiel asked, his face blank.

"He got bitten by a zombie!" Sam exclaimed. "On the ass!" which was way better of course.

"You were bitten by one of the undead on your rear?" Castiel inquired and Dean narrowed his eyes, searching for any sign of laughter.

Because it was Cas, there was nothing but polite enquiry. "Yes," he gritted, butt cheek throbbing.

"Let me see," Castiel demanded and walked around Dean and gazed at his ass. Dean tried not to squirm. Sam's face splitting grin was not helping.

"It appears that you indeed have a necrotising bite mark on your left buttock cheek," Cas mused and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Thank you for pointing that out for me, bird-brain, now is there anything you can do about it?" Dean glared at Sam who was not even trying to hide his glee.

"You wish me to heal you?" Castiel asked from behind and Dean was really getting uncomfortable about the fact that Cas was staring at his ass so intently.

"That would be great," Dean told him insincerely.

"Very well," Cas said and touched his finger to Dean's butt. The zing of power made him jump a little but the immediate relief from the burn of the dead bite was intense.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean said, pulling his pants up and redoing his belt. "Really, you're an angel."

"Yes, I am," Cas agreed and looked at Dean in confusion, "but you know this already."

Sam fell back onto the bed laughing. Dean kicked his ankle and smiled weakly at Castiel. "I know. It's just a figure of speech," and then held up a hand when Cas opened his mouth to say something else. "How about I buy you a burger and I'll explain it to you?"

"I could eat," Cas admitted and Sam jumped up.

"You're not invited," Dean told him smugly.

"You're okay with sitting in a diner with Castiel and talking to him about figures of speech?" Sam asked doubtfully.

Dean snarled. "Fine. But you buy your own damn burger."

**Author's Note:**

> _ The literary subtext of a zombie apocalypse is usually that civilization is inherently fragile in the face of truly unprecedented threats and that most individuals cannot be relied upon to support the greater good if the personal cost becomes too high. Kim Paffrenroth notes that "more than any other monster, zombies are fully and literally apocalyptic ... they signal the end of the world as we have known it."_


End file.
